Tooth fairy

I must have been a troublesome case for the tooth fairy.

Little Cop and I got into a fist fight.  Afterwards, one of my front tooth became loose.  Poor boy got into lots of trouble that day.

Mom took me to see the dentist, a gentle lady.  Her office was behind a photography studio.  I remembered it being cool and comforting.  The dentist asked both me and mom lots of questions.  She checked my tooth and took a few x-rays.  Then came the big announcement.  It wasn’t Little Cop’s fault after all.  A permanent tooth was ready to come out.  I was four and a half years old.

I am pretty sure that most children welcome their first permanent tooth with excitement.  My experience was quite different.  It was obvious that my biological clock was a bit off.  My facial and bone structures were not ready for a permanent tooth, which would easily crowd out nearby baby teeth.  Following the advice of the lady dentist, mom took me to the dental department at National Taiwan University Hospital.  After a few appointments, I landed in the office of the orthodontist.

In those days, orthodontics was in its embryonic stage in Taiwan.  My doctor was a pioneer in the field, and I was the guinea pig.  He explained to mom that my situation required a long-term plan: continuous observations, anticipations, extractions and BRACES!!!  I became a frequent visitor of the dental department.  Whenever we “sensed” some movements on a baby tooth, we would report to the doctor.  Then, we would schedule an appointment to extract that tooth and, sometimes, the neighboring one to open up a space for the new permanent tooth.  We waited for the new one to arrive and settled in.  Then, we went for further adjustments.

Doctors from other offices would often drop by to observe my treatments.  Most of them were interested in the procedures.  A few seemed sitting on the fence about such convoluted plan.  During Japanese occupation, medical records in Taiwan were written in German until after WWII.  As the tradition lingered, medical and dental students were required to study German.  Having a professor’s daughter at the chair also caused some stirs.

I was a very cooperative patient: out of pride and vanity!  I wanted to show off my braveness to all the people coming and going.  I didn’t want to have unruly teeth sticking out of my mouth.  AND, bribery worked beautifully.

Going home from the hospital, we needed to walk through the municipal park.  Across the street from the park entrance, there was a shop known for its taro ice and plum tea.  Mom would always take me there for a treat.

Chinese plum tea (酸梅湯) is a complex concoction: boiled and chilled juice of smoked Chinese plum, sweetened with sugar and flavored with dried sweet Osmanthus blossoms.  It is a bit salty, slightly sweet, just a hint of sourness and full of flavor.  (Isn’t that the definition for umami?)  It is the best beverage for a hot summer day.  Traditionally, it is believed that it has some medicinal effects also.

Taro roots are naturally sweet and starchy.  Taro ice doesn’t have eggs.  It is not as creamy and sweet as regular ice cream.  But, when it melts in the mouth, all the natural flavors of taro perk up one’s taste buds.  The shop by the park serves three scoops of ices, different colors and flavors.

The municipal park is now named 228 Peace Memorial Park, commemorating the victims of “February 28 Incident,” a violent suppression of anti-Nationalist uprising.  With the development of the city, the surroundings of the tea shop have changed a great deal.  However, the shop is carrying on its tradition and reputation at its original location.

My treatments continued until my last permanent molar came out. I never collected any money from the tooth fairy. What I collected from my missing teeth was a treasure trove of memories.

That Old, Good, Natural Iced Sour Plum Tea, The “tea” is, instead of “sour,” full of sweet memories.